Otherworlds
by Sati Lotus
Summary: Mitchell, George and Nina know that getting Annie won't be easy, but when confronted by their own feelings, their own secrets and the strange wonders of the world, they aren't so sure if Annie should come back. *on indefinite hiatus*
1. Chapter 1: Nina

**Otherworlds**

**Pairing(s): **George/ Nina, possible Mitchell/ Annie later.  
**Rating:** M for swearing and violence. If you can watch the show, you can read this.  
**Disclaimer: **All I own is the story. The characters belong to BBC Three and Toby Whithouse.  
**Summary: Mitchell, George and Nina know that getting Annie won't be easy, but when confronted by their own feelings, their own secrets and the strange wonders of the world, they aren't so sure if Annie should come back. **  
**Author's notes: **This is still a work in progress. More chapters to come.

Chapter One: Nina.

Nina stared at the shop across from the cafe. She wasn't sure of what to make of what had happened last night, but she had to do something. If she hadn't begged George to...

She sighed, pushing the thought aside. She wandered back to the park bench and dropped down morosely beside Mitchell. He shifted away from her, but she didn't really mind. George had only let him out of his bedroom two days ago and he still frightened her. After last night, there was no telling what mood he was in.

After a few minutes she saw George walking down the road towards them. He was staring at the ground, and she could practically hear the words 'Annie, have to get Annie back' going through his head.

"Hey."

He smiled at her, a weak, half-hearted smile, but a smile nonetheless. That was something, right?

"How was work?" she asked for lack of anything better to say. What could she say? They'd lost their best friend. There was nothing to say, not even 'It'll be alright' or 'I'm sorry'.

George glanced at Mitchell, but answered her. "Fine. Bit quiet."

He dropped down between her and Mitchell and she was relieved to have something between her and the vampire.

She nodded and glanced back across the road. They'd been here three weeks now – how had she not noticed it?

Lucy Jaggat was dead and Nina, for one, would not miss her. Nina couldn't help but feel that wretched woman had gotten off lightly. Mitchell had buried her body somewhere in the woods earlier today. Kemp was... well, who knew where Annie had taken him?

Nina didn't kid herself. She knew dick all about the afterlife, even after discussing it at length with Annie. Hell, even Annie was a bit vague about it. But she needed to do something to help get her back.

It was a long shot, but if she had to start somewhere, a magic shop was a good a place as any.

She stood up. "I'm going to take a look in there," she announced, indicated the magic shop, creatively named 'Otherworld'.

George made a face. "Nina, c'mon. That's just a-"

"They might have something," she interrupted defensively. "If we're going to get Annie back, then we need to explore every possible avenue. Can't hurt to look in there."

To her surprise, Mitchell got to his feet. He stared at the shop with grim interest and Nina drew back when she saw his eyes flash black. He strode towards the shop, his shoulders hunched.

George shrugged and with a sigh, followed them to the shop.

Nina pushed open the door and heard a tinkling of bells. She couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Not the magical Diagon Alley she'd secretly been hoping for.

Crystals galore, chimes, tarot cards, dresses, jewellery, funny little cauldrons, chalices, pentacles, pentagrams, mirrors, and strange paraphernalia that she couldn't even figure out what it was, let alone what it was meant to do. Eucalyptus incense scented the air. There were so many books that they nearly covered an entire wall.

Partly hidden by an electric waterfall fountain, there was a young woman behind the counter reading a magazine. She glanced up when they entered, gave a vague smile and looked back down at her magazine.

Mitchell made a beeline for the books and George wandered over to inspect a shelf of bits and bobs. He seemed just as mystified by the stuff in here as she was.

Despite being here for an entirely different purpose, she found herself drifting towards the racks of dresses. They were clearly handmade, beautiful velvets and silks. A lovely white one made her think of the time she'd attended the _Return of the Kings_ premiere dressed as Galadriel. Mostly to please a nerdy boyfriend, but she had liked the dressing up part, not so much the fake pointy ears.

She went to inspect the books. _A Witches' Bible: The Complete Witches Handbook._ _Satanica Sexualis: An Encyclopedia of Sex And the Devil. Tibetan Magic and Mysticism. The Encyclopedia of Jewish Myth, Magic and Mysticism. The Witches' Book of Ghosts and Exorcism. __Muslims, Magic and the Kingdom of God: Church Planting Among Folk Muslims. _Even _The Complete Idiot's Guide to Ghosts & Hauntings_ offered no help.

She sighed in exasperation and looked up to follow Mitchell's progress with the books, but he appeared to be having a hard time even looking at the covers. It took a few seconds for Nina to realise that many of the covers had religious symbols on them. She glanced over at George, hoping he'd notice the situation and walk over to help. George could do that sort of thing, but she couldn't. Not with Mitchell.

She watched the vampire for a few seconds longer and then walked over to a clearance bin. To her amusement, there was a children's book about werewolves in there. She picked it up and flipped through it, trying to remember how if had felt to look at these little cartoons and pass it off as rubbish. Now she was critical, thinking 'That's not right."

"You might have better luck in that section over there," the young woman behind the counter said suddenly, looking at Mitchell. He looked up sharply and remained where he was, glaring at her defiantly. She shrugged and went back to her magazine.

George took the opportunity to approach her. "Hi," he began awkwardly. "Do you, er, know much about this stuff?" he waved his hand, indicating the entire shop. Nina smiled at his fumbled manner.

The woman straightened up. "Yeah. A bit." She was amused by the question.

"Oh, well, good," he said, looking relieved and surprised at the same time. "Well, we need to find out about ghosts."

"Ghosts," she repeated and pointed to a Parkers Brothers Ouija Board. "Will that help?"

George frowned. "Well. She spoke to us last night through the telly, so I don't think that a board game will do much."

The woman laughed. "Through the television huh? How modern of her."

She came out from behind the counter and looked around the shop, pausing to watch Mitchell for a few seconds, and then looked up at George. Nina snuck a peek at the magazine she'd been reading. She was disappointed to discover that it was just _Vogue_.

"So, ghosts. What do you want with ghosts?" she prompted, smiling.

George hesitated, evidently not sure what to say. "Well, our friend died – she was murdered actually and obviously she was upset about it and became a ghost," he rushed. "But a couple of weeks ago she sort of... well, sort of vanished. Then last night, she appeared and spoke to us through the TV. We saw her."

A thoroughly abridged version of the events, but how could they explain to this woman without sounding mad?

Nina looked the woman up and down, not bothering to be subtle. She was around George's age, maybe just a bit younger. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue shirt that said '.mp3 thief', she looked almost boringly normal. The most interesting thing about her was the fact that she had a few leather cuffs on her wrists. Again Nina felt let down, seriously doubting that she had any idea about the supernatural. She was probably all about sitting around a graveyard, praying to the moon and making dramatic statements about being a daughter of Gaia or something.

"Well, if she's gone through her door, then there isn't really much to be done," she said, matter of fact.

George looked at her, shocked. "You know about... the doors?"

She nodded. "I know about the doors," she said simply.

"Oh. Right. Of course. It's just that when she spoke to us last night, she seemed to be in trouble." George hesitated. "She said something about forms and being moved around to rooms."

That got her interest. "Forms?"

George nodded, suddenly hopeful. "Yes. Forms."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I've never heard of that before. How curious."

Nina felt her hope promptly dwindle. Obviously that had been a stab in the dark on her part, trying to sucker them into buying some of this silly stuff.

The woman frowned sharply and looked back over at Mitchell. "Look, if you want to actually _read_ any of the books, try the ones in _that_ section. They don't have any religious symbols on them."

Mitchell glanced up and Nina was startled at the furious look on his face. He took a few steps towards the woman, almost menacingly, but turned abruptly, going over the shelves she was pointing at.

"You know what he is?" Nina marvelled and George shot her an alarmed 'Be quiet' look.

"I know he's upset," she replied ambiguously, and rubbed her chin, thoughtful.

"Well, if she's contacting you through white noise, then she's quite powerful. She must have strong ties to the world." She looked up at George, evidently wanting more information.

"When we figured out her murder and cleared that up, her door opened," George said tentatively. "But she didn't go through it."

"Why?"

"Ah, Mitchell – my friend over there – was stabbed, right in front of us, and she got all frightened and didn't want to leave."

She looked over at Mitchell, not looking overly impressed. "So she stayed because of him?"

George frowned. "Well. Yes. I suppose." He sounded a little insulted.

"That was very sweet of her. You must all be very close. What's her name?"

"Annie." George looked away. "We miss her a lot."

The woman reached beside the little fountain on the counter and pulled out a business card with a little picture of a waterfall in the top left corner.

_Sarah Adams_

_Proprietor of the Otherworld_

"Sarah," George read out, looking as pleased as Nina felt that her name was ordinary. If it had been something like Jaua Paiga Blackshadow, Daughter of the Moon Goddess, she would have walked out immediately.

George looked up from the card. "It's nice to meet you Sarah."

She smiled. "And it's nice to meet you..."

"Oh!" George smiled sheepishly at his bad manners. "I'm George and this is Nina."

"George and Nina," repeated Sarah, flashing Nina a bright smile.

"Hi," Nina said, feeling a little confused.

Until quite recently, Nina had always thought of herself as a highly practical person, grounded in commonsense. Then she'd discovered that there were things that went bump in the night and felt thoroughly thrown. That had been the reason that she'd agreed to go to the facility.

Based in science, it had seemed so practical. So she'd gone with Lucy, despite feeling that it was all a big mistake. She'd gone against her better judgement, against her intuition.

Reeling from the slaughter as they'd left the facility, she'd vowed to herself that she would always follow her instinct. And right now her intuition was telling her that this woman knew _something_.

Sarah smiled sympathetically. "If a person passes through their door, they go into limbo." She took in George's troubled look. "But I could be wrong."

She cocked her head to one side and after a few seconds Nina realised that Sarah was actually looking over George's shoulder. She turned, wondering what was there.

There was a flicker of something, sort of blurred, but she couldn't figure it out. She squinted harder and for a few seconds she fancied that there was another person in the room. Then it was gone.

She turned back and saw Sarah watching her. Again Nina felt the strong insistence that Sarah knew something.

Mitchell stalked over then, hands thrust deep into his jacket pockets, irritated and miserable looking. Cautious, George motioned to Sarah.

"Mitchell, this is Sarah. I was just telling her about Annie."

Mitchell winced at the sound of Annie's name. Despite her current fear of him, Nina felt a pang of pity. Mitchell seemed to have taken this the hardest¸ though many sleepless nights of listening to him scream out Annie's name might have skewered her opinion.

"Sarah might be able to help us get in contact with Annie," Nina offered tentatively.

Mitchell eyed Sarah warily. "Really?" He didn't sound impressed. Evidently the abrupt enthusiasm he'd displayed before they came in had worn off.

"Maybe," Sarah replied neutrally.

"Look, check back in a few days. I'll definitely have something for you by then," Sarah said, looking back at George and Nina. She shrugged apologetically. "It might not be what you want to hear, but it'll be something."

"We just want to know that she's okay," Nina said, feeling pleased that something was being done.

George nodded in agreement, but Mitchell didn't say anything.

A phone rang abruptly and Nina jumped.

Sarah glanced over at the counter and an answering machine clicked on.

"Welcome to Otherworld. Please leave your name, number and a message and we'll get back to you," Sarah's tinny recorded voice announced.

"Sarah? Sarah, pickup damn it," a male voice demanded. "It's important!"

Sarah snorted and the phone clicked off. She smiled wryly at them. "Sorry about that."

Before any of them could say anything, Sarah bit her lip, suddenly looking uncertain. "This isn't really my place to say anything," she said tentatively, looking at George and Nina. "But do you two ...ah, have somewhere safe to be for tonight?"

George stared at her, shocked, but Nina felt smug. She **was** right, there was something more to Sarah. But what?

"It's just that there's another wolf on the other side of the river and he's a bit territorial..." Sarah trailed off, looking embarrassed.

Choking down his horror of being recognised as a werewolf, George managed to nod. "Yes, we've made arrangements."

Sarah nodded. "Good. That's good. Just thought I'd check."

Nina opened her mouth to say something, but George pulled her away, grabbing Mitchell's shoulder to drag him along as well. Nina struggled to look back as George yanked her through the door.

"Thanks! We'll be back!" she yelled.

Nina let George lead her up the road for a few minutes before shrugging him off. He let go of them both. Mitchell kept walking. Nina frowned up at George disapprovingly.

"That was rude."

George lifted his hands in apology. "I know, I know, I'm sorry. I just panicked."

Slightly mollified, Nina glanced around. "So do you think she might be able to help?"

George shrugged. "She could be full of crap for all I know," he said, sighing. They watched Mitchell storm up the road to where the car was parked. He yanked on the handle, but finding it locked, he just slumped against the side, his eyes closed.

"Is he going to be alright?" Nina asked softly. She hadn't forgotten the mangled bodies that Mitchell had left in his wake or the past weeks of a hysterical vampire thrashing about so hard that the cottage shook.

George didn't answer. He walked up to the car, keys out. He opened the car and Mitchell quickly slid in the backseat.

Nina looked back to the little shop and hoped that Sarah would be able to help.

***

I hope you enjoyed this. **Chapter Two: Mitchell** will be posted soon.


	2. Chapter 2: Mitchell

**Otherworlds**

**Pairing(s): **George/ Nina, possible Mitchell/ Annie later.  
**Rating:** M for swearing and violence. If you can watch the show, you can read this.  
**Disclaimer: **All I own is the story. The characters belong to BBC Three and Toby Whithouse.  
**Summary: Mitchell, George and Nina know that getting Annie won't be easy, but when confronted by their own feelings, their own secrets and the strange wonders of the world, they aren't so sure if Annie should come back. **  
**Author's notes: **This is still a work in progress. More chapters to come.

Chapter Two: Mitchell.

Mitchell prowled around the house, trying to avoid the television, but in such a cramped cottage, there was only so much room. He just wanted to escape. No, that wasn't quite right. He wanted to kill someone, something, anything.

He wanted to rip something, drown something, kick something, destroy something, make someone bleed.

He slumped against the living room wall, staring at the television. He resisted the urge to go over and hit it repeatedly. What if Annie appeared to them again through it?

He wanted her back so badly. Perhaps then this agonising pain he felt in his chest would go away. The pain he'd felt as Annie had vanished into a black abyss had not entirely gone away. He was starting to suspect that it never would. Sometimes he barely noticed it, other times he was crumpled on the floor, gasping for breath that he technically didn't need.

The physical pain paled in comparison to knowing she wasn't not around, it hurt more than he thought was possible. Knowing she wasn't pottering around in the kitchen, making tea or coffee or cocoa. That she wouldn't be greeting him at the door excitedly when he got home, demanding to know every detail of his day.

He would probably never see her again.

The pain in his chest flared up again and he wrenched himself off the wall, retreating back to his room. There wasn't much in here, just a mattress and some books. Before walling him up in the room, George had taken everything else out.

The first three weeks were a bit of a daze. He remembered leaving the facility with George, but after that, it was a bit of a blur. He'd woken up in here and promptly gone mental.

Full of blood and rage, his entire being denied its sole purpose for existing, he'd spent days and nights writhing in agony. Fiery pain that went deep into his bones. His throat hoarse from screaming. Long scratches on his face where he'd clawed his skin. Deep bite marks down his arms from where he'd tried to rip his own body apart to taste something. He'd tried breaking out, but George had reinforced the door and boarded up the window. Cracks in the wall had appeared as he savagely slammed into them, plaster flaking down from the ceiling.

Being lucid wasn't any better. Remembering was probably worse. The pain of losing his friends and Ivan. Ivan who'd been willing to help him so he could be with Lucy. Lucy's betrayal. Daisy's misery and his fury as realisation set in. The train, god, the train. Those terrified people, the intoxicating scent of their fear, the taste of their blood. Those people at the facility. Ripping them apart had been so gratifying.

He hadn't cared as his humanity ebbed away with each life cut short.

_Mitchell! I killed her! Your __**friend**__. I threw her over to the other side. Did you feel her go? Hmm? __**Did you?**__ Did you hear her scream as she was ripped from the world? I want you to know __**pain**__. Like the families of your victims. I want you to know grief and __**rage**__ as I did. _

Kemp got his wish. Mitchell felt grief and rage.

Grief for Annie. Rage at himself. Which was worse? Hard to say.

He'd felt grief before. Living as long as he had, it was common enough. But for a vampire, it was fleeting. A moment's pause to acknowledge the death of a friend, pain faced and overcome. Then onwards into the next blood filled revelry. He didn't want that for Annie. He wanted to remember her.

He vaguely remembered being curled up on the floor, overcome with pain, begging. Not for the pain to go away, but for Annie to come back.

Some part of him had been ripped away, going with her through the door. There was just pain where Annie should have been.

Tears rolled down his cheeks.

But the rage...

_Hey_

_It's the ghost._

_Did you have a friend stay over?_

_I kissed you once, do you remember?_

_Yeah...sort of._

_You know, sometimes I can hear you moving about in a different room and I just think about your body. Under those clothes. I think about your skin._

_Wha... Mitchell! Stop it, shut up._

_Do you want to kiss me again? Do you want to kiss me?_

How many times had he replayed their last conversation over and over in his mind? How Mitchell hated himself for those cruel, mocking words. The last time he'd seen her, he'd threatened her, frightened her.

That was the worst thing. Knowing he'd scared her. Mitchell's eyes flashed black as he raged at himself.

The other day when George finally decided that it was safe enough to let him out, he'd set him down at the kitchen table and explained the situation. The small cottage in Fôrforwynllyn, a tiny village in Wales. Had to wait until the situation 'cooled down'. Temporary, George said, but he didn't seem to believe his own words. How could they go back to Bristol anyway? Bristol belonged to Annie.

Mitchell had just nodded, agreeing, but not really caring. He was past caring, too beaten and heartsick. He'd have to figure out a way to repay George for going through all this trouble for his sake.

At the moment he'd settle for calming Nina down. He was conscious of Nina's nervousness around him. Understandable, and he'd told himself that he'd do something to reassure her. What, he didn't know. But she had been so focused on her own self appointed task of tracking down Lucy, her own way of trying to make amends, to really bother with him. A few cautious words to each other and then they'd get to whatever they were doing.

But now Lucy was dead and Nina would want to find something new to do. Her life had been turned upside down too.

Mitchell sighed. He'd have to leave sooner or later. He'd have to find Daisy and Cara. Daisy was a little unhinged, but Cara was a stubborn follower. They would do what he had demanded of them. Could he stop them, if that was even possible now? Probably not.

They'd find him soon enough and no doubt Herrick would be with them.

His misery made him restless and Mitchell got up again and went into the kitchen. He stared out the window and could hear the howls of werewolves out in the forest. Just faintly. Wild animals, free of anguish that harassed humans constantly.

He sat down at the table and reached for a coffee mug. He didn't fill it with tea or coffee to drink. If Annie hadn't made it, then why bother? But he liked holding the mug, it was comforting.

He thought of the last few times he'd sat and had a cup of tea with her.

They often chatted late at night, when George was asleep. Mitchell didn't sleep much and Annie didn't sleep at all. Usually they'd read to each other, books and trashy magazines or they'd just watch movies.

Annie had read _Twilight_ aloud to him over the course of six brain cell killing nights. Nearly every sentence made him roll his eyes, but Annie liked it. Thought it was romantic and sweet, though dammed if he could figure out why.

He'd grudgingly borrowed the DVD from the video shop for her, making sure that George never saw it or even knew about it. Skinny jeans were bad, but _Twilight_ was far worse.

He'd sat beside her, thoroughly unenthusiastic as they watched it, Annie squealing over the cuteness of the actors. He'd made a disdainful comment about the male lead needing to brush his hair and Annie had tartly pointed out that he could hardly comment on someone else's hair, yanking on a strand of his own ragged hair for emphasis.

The resulting argument over the prettiness of his hair had ended up with him sulkily agreeing to take her to see the next movie.

They'd been alone in the house, George having moved out. She'd handed him a cup of coffee which he absentmindedly accepted, his mind elsewhere, focused on his other problems.

"When can we see _New Moon_?"

He'd looked up, a deer trapped in headlights. "What?"

"On, come on. You promised you'd take me to see it when George moved out." She batted her eyelashes at him. "Pleeeeeease?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes." She used puppy dog eyes next, shamelessly manipulating him.

"Can I at least complain about it?"

"Only if you eat popcorn."

"What? But I hate popcorn!"

"You can't go to the movies and not have popcorn." Scandalised.

He'd set the mug down, determined to win this argument. "I'll take you to see the movie. I'll have a packet of chips. That's my final offer. Take it or leave it."

She leaned back, cocky. "You take me to see the movie. You can have chips. Only if you watch _Twilight_ with me before we go to the cinema."

"Oh hell no. Not again. No."

She grinned broadly. "Then have the popcorn."

"No."

"I'll tell George where we're going."

"... Fine, I'll have the bloody popcorn."

_I have to go...but please... don't forget me, will you?_

_No._

He'd never get to take her to see the stupid sparkly vampire movie now. Thinking of that last true conversation with her, before he'd gone on a bloody rampage and somehow managed to change everything... Mitchell buried his face in his arms and sobbed.

***

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. **Chapter Three: George** will be posted soon.


	3. Chapter 3: George

**Otherworlds**

**Pairing(s): **George/ Nina, possible Mitchell/ Annie later.  
**Rating:** M for swearing and violence. If you can watch the show, you can read this.  
**Disclaimer: **All I own is the story. The characters belong to BBC Three and Toby Whithouse.  
**Summary: Mitchell, George and Nina know that getting Annie won't be easy, but when confronted by their own feelings, their own secrets and the strange wonders of the world, they aren't so sure if Annie should come back. **  
**Author's notes: **This is still a work in progress. More chapters to come.

Chapter Two: George.

_What happens now Mitchell? What do we do?_

_We're gonna get her back._

George came out of the cafe, his mind a jumbled mess of thoughts. He was worried about Mitchell, worried about Nina, worried about Annie, just worried in general.

He paused and glanced over at the Otherworld. Barely twenty four hours had passed since he'd been in there. The front display had changed. There were mannequins wearing medieval dresses now.

He pushed open the door, bells jingling over his head. He looked around, but didn't see Sarah. He decided to browse around until she came back. There was a small table in the middle of the store, with a deck of tarot cards and a crystal ball set out. _Discover your future: £15_

He rolled his eyes. He turned to inspected a shelf of colourful crystals, each neatly labelled with the name and properties.

Amethyst... fluorite...iolite... lapis lazuli...quartz... turquoise. He snorted, dismissing it. He might have had a slap to the face with discovering werewolves, vampires and ghosts were real, but putting power into gems? Rubbish.

He moved on to a jewellery display case. Various pendants, crosses, celtic knots, rings, pentacles, earrings, the obligatory dragon and fairy pieces in one corner. A talisman with a few Hebrew symbols caught his eye.

"That's the fourth pentacle of Mercury. It helps with understanding and gaining knowledge."

He spun around. Sarah grinned broadly at him. As Nina had commented last night, Sarah didn't fit in with what he thought the owner of a magic shop should look like. There was no gothic black velvet dress, no heavy eyeliner, not even black lipstick. Just a young woman in a pair of blue skinny jeans, a white shirt that said 'Easily distracted by shiny things' and dark brown hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail.

"Oh, ah, well, that's good to know," he fumbled, hurriedly putting it back in the case. He looked back up at her.

She scratched behind her ear, looking sheepish. "I'm afraid I haven't-"

"No, no, that's not why I'm here," he cut her off quickly. She blinked in surprise and waited for him to go on.

"I just wanted to apologise for yesterday. I don't like... I'm still not..."

Sarah smiled kindly. "That's understandable. I didn't mean to freak you out or anything. But I know what Haul is like."

George glanced around the shop, relieved. "It was good of you to warn us."

Sarah sat down and motioned for George to take a seat across from her. He looked at the tarot cards. "Going to read me my fortune?"

Sarah laughed. "I don't believe in that stuff."

He was surprised. "You believe in werewolves, ghosts and vampires, but you don't believe in fortune telling?" He frowned, suddenly wondering if he should have used the word 'vampire'.

"I can see those. They're real. How can you believe in something that hasn't happened yet?" She picked up the crystal ball and began tossing it from hand to hand like it was a tennis ball.

Not being a terribly philosophical person while sober, George just nodded. "So how do you know about these things?"

Sarah glanced up. "I know a few supernatural beings. I trust them."

"You think they can help?"

"They'll probably know a way for you to contact her, wherever she is," she said. "But you won't be able to bring her back to life."

"That doesn't matter," George said quickly. "We've only known her as a ghost anyway."

George wondered if she was trying to hint that their mission to get Annie back would only end in disappointment.

If he was entirely honest with himself, though he would miss her terribly, he would be happy for Annie if she chose to move on. He just wanted her to be happy and safe.

"May I ask why you came to Fôrforwynllyn?" Sarah inquired, interrupting his train of thought.

"We couldn't stay in Bristol after Annie left," he said. He noticed her eyebrow go up when he said 'Bristol' and wondered if that was a mistake. If she had supernatural friends, she might have heard of them.

"How did you meet your supernatural friends?" he asked, anxious to change topics.

"I met a water spirit when I was a child. Since then, I've just sort of attracted different kinds of people. Different spirits, shapeshifters, werewolves, witches, vampires... all sorts."

George felt a chill run down his spine. Annie had been right. Ghosts, werewolves, vampires... they really were just the tip of the iceberg. There was a whole other world out there, yet it still existed in the same world as Miley Cyrus songs, Keira Knightly, Twitter, and iPhones.

George felt strangely disorientated by her words. He stared blankly forward, turning this new revelation over and over in his mind.

After several minutes, he saw the crystal ball floating in the air.

"Shit!" He jumped back, knocking over his chair. "Shit!"

He stared. The crystal ball rose slowly until it floated a few inches from his face. He stumbled backwards, banging into a shelf full of cauldrons.

"Stop!"

Sarah had jumped to her feet, watching the knocked shelf intently. Her hands were splayed in front of her. The cauldrons froze midair. _It's like a real life pause button_, George thought.

The crystal ball had dropped out of the air, and rolled against his foot. Then one by one, the cauldrons began to drift back onto the suddenly righted shelf.

It took a few seconds for George to figure out what was going on. _She's moving it with her mind_, George realised. _Sarah's fucking telekinetic!_

It took a few minutes for her to direct everything back to its proper place. Chagrined, she picked the crystal ball up.

"Sorry. I was, um, showing off." She set the ball neatly back on the table. She blinked and the chair that he'd knocked over drew upright, tucking itself under the little table.

"Okay. Well. That was weird," George said. "Very, very, very weird."

"It's handy for stocking up the shop though," Sarah said, breaking the awkward silence. "No heavy lifting required."

George laughed.

"Why don't you three come over on Sunday for lunch?" Sarah said impulsively. "I make an excellent roast."

The idea of a roast made George's mouth water. It had been _ages_ since he'd enjoyed a roast. In the cottage, they had a hard enough time making the stove work, let alone the oven.

"That would be lovely," he replied. "I'm sure Nina will want to come. Mitchell, I'm not so sure."

Sarah clapped her hands together, delighted. "Excellent!" she squealed. "It's fine if Mitchell doesn't want to come. You can take him home something."

George smiled, chuffed that he'd accepted the offer.

***

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Chapter Four: Nina II will be posted soon.


	4. Chapter 4: Nina II

**Otherworlds**: Chapter Four 

**Pairing(s): **George/ Nina, possible Mitchell/ Annie later.  
**Rating:** R for swearing and violence. If you can watch the show, you can read this.  
**Disclaimer: **All I own is the story. The characters belong to BBC Three and Toby Whithouse.  
**Summary: Mitchell, George and Nina know that getting Annie won't be easy, but when confronted by their own feelings, their own secrets and the strange wonders of the world, they aren't so sure if Annie should come back. **  
**Author's notes: **This is still a work in progress. More chapters to come.

Chapter Four: Nina II.

If patience was a virtue, it was a virtue that Nina lacked.

She'd been pleased when George had told them of Sarah's offer for Sunday lunch, but she wanted to know what Sarah had found out about Annie's situation.

And she wanted to know _now_.

She'd told George that she wanted to go to the library so he'd willingly dropped her off, saying he'd be back in two hours. She was glad he didn't know that the Library wasn't opened past twelve on a Saturday. Once he was out of sight, she briskly walked to the Otherworld.

George had told them all about Sarah's telekinetic ability and how she had supernatural friends, including a water spirit, whatever that was. Nina hoped that meant that Sarah would now have some information to share.

Sarah was sitting in the middle of the store, reading a book, her bare feet up on the table. She had a mermaid tattooed on her left foot. Her shirt today said 'The only thing we have to fear is fear itself... and spiders'. She looked up from her book, saw it was Nina, and smiled warmly.

"Hello Nina."

"Hi." Nina didn't waste time. "Do you have anything yet?"

If Sarah was offended by Nina's forthright question, she didn't show it. "As a matter of fact, I have."

She looked over to the counter and several sheets of paper lifted up into the air, floating over to the table. Astounded, Nina watched as they settled neatly in the middle of the table.

"Wow." An incredible understatement, but it was all Nina could think of to say to such a display. Sarah grinned and waggled her fingers in front of her. "Welcome... to the Otherworld," she said dramatically and giggled.

Nina rushed over, excited at the thought that these papers might hold some clues. Unfortunately, the papers were a messy scrawl of notes. They might have been Egyptian hieroglyphics for all Nina could read. She looked up at Sarah.

Sarah pulled a sheet out of the pile. It seemed to be a chart of some sort. Nina could barely make out the words. She thought she could make out 'reincarnation', 'doors', and possibly the word 'wanker'.

"Your Annie is in her limbo state. She'll eventually let go and move on." Sarah shrugged. "Everyone creates their own limbo state when they die. Your Annie might think she's trapped, but she's not. When she lets go of this life, she'll move on."

Nina was surprised by the simplicity of the explanation, but very confused. "But she was so scared," Nina protested, thinking of Annie's last distraught words to them.

Sarah nodded sympathetically. "Death is traumatic for humans. They need time to adjust. Eventually she'll calm down and let go." She frowned thoughtfully. "If she was a ghost before she went through her door, then she'll be deeply attached to this world. That's probably why she's so upset. She doesn't want to let go."

That sort of made sense to Nina. "So what about the rooms and forms?"

Sarah shrugged. "That's something she's created herself, even if she doesn't realise it."

"So what, her idea of limbo is Jobcentre?" Nina said dubiously. She knew Annie was a bit of a nutter, but to make that up...

"Or maybe a hospital," suggested Sarah. She shrugged again. "Forms and rooms there too."

"So how did she talk to us through the television?"

Sarah pulled out another sheet. Again it was mostly scrawled notes. Though what the erect penis in the top left hand corner had to do with anything, Nina couldn't figure out.

Sarah saw what Nina was peering at and she blushed. The corner of the paged crumpled and Nina blinked in surprise.

"I get bored when talking on the phone," Sarah muttered, her cheeks still red. Nina snickered.

"Lots of dead people in limbo can communicate through EVP," Sarah said, recovering her knowledgeable tone. Seeing Nina's blank look, she quickly explained. "Electronic voice phenomenon. It's fairly common, even if it tends to be dismissed."

"Oh." Nina flipped through the papers. "So how did Annie just appear to take Kemp through a door?"

Sarah paused. "She did what?"

"Kemp was about to kill me and Annie just appeared, grabbed him and dragged him through a door. Then she spoke to us through the TV."

Now Sarah looked bewildered. "That, I cannot explain."

"Damn," Nina muttered to herself, disappointed. The rest of Sarah's explanation more or less made sense. Since Annie had come back once, she'd hoped that they might have been able to get her back the same way.

Sarah drummed her fingers on the table, deep in thought. Nina shuffled through the papers, but they didn't make much sense to her. Messy scrawl, strange pictures, none of it particularly helpful in her quest to get Annie back.

After a few minutes, Sarah sighed. "Maybe Llyr will know."

"Who?"

"Llyr is a water spirit. I've known her since I was eight," Sarah explained. "If I can't get answers from my other paranormal contacts, then I ask Llyr."

"You do this witch stuff often?"

"I'm not a witch," Sarah said firmly. "I don't have that type of power."

That surprised Nina. "So... what are you then?"

"A Conduit. I can speak with spirits."

"And you got your telekinesis from them?" As far as superpowers went, Nina thought telekinesis was a pretty good one. It'd be really handy if you wanted to change the channel and couldn't find the remote.

"I've had that since I was born. It runs in my family. It's why I caught Llyr's interest." She glanced around the shop. "Look, why don't we go upstairs to my flat and have a cup of tea?"

Nina liked the hominess of Sarah's flat. The blandness of the cottage they were living in was depressing, not that the occupants were faring any better.

A small, but modern kitchen, a dining table, and at the far end between the doors leading to what Nina assumed were the bathroom and bedroom respectively, was a three person sofa in front of a large TV. Sarah clearly had a passion for water themes in her decorating.

There were dozens of pictures on the walls, sunny beach scenes, white water rivers, tranquil lakes, and mysterious underwater scenes. A fish bowl in the middle of the table, two goldfish swimming in lazy circles, and there was a row of bowls on the windowsill, each one holding a brightly coloured Siamese fighting fish.

Sarah put the kettle on and Nina sat at the table, still holding the papers. Now that she looked at them properly, she could vaguely make out the messy handwriting. One was a list of stages of death, though it sort of trailed off after the word 'limbo'. Another was a rough explanation of EVP.

"So, Llyr is like a naiad or something?" she asked.

"Pretty much. Everything in nature has a connecting spirit. Llyr is connected to water."

Nina raised an eyebrow and tried not to laugh at the whole idea. "Really?"

Sarah smiled at her scepticism. "Think of spirits as energy. Many scientists believe that the universe has a constantly moving energy. Electrophysiology. Bioenergetics. Things like that."

The kettle whistled. Nina shook her head. "Sorry. It just sounds like Star Wars stuff to me." She smirked. "May the Force be with you."

"You're a werewolf. You have a connection to moon spirits, night spirits, earth spirits, animal spirits. Probably lots of others too." Sarah motioned around the room. "I have an affinity with the water. But I can converse with many different types of spirits."

Nina wasn't quite sure what to think about the idea of being connected to these spirit things. Were they dangerous?

"So can we contact Annie in her limbo place?" Nina asked hopefully.

As Sarah set the cups and biscuits on the table, and looked a Nina thoughtfully. "If you keep trying to speak with her, it'll make it harder for her to let go."

Nina looked down into her cup of tea.

_I have to go, but... Please, don't forget me, will you?_

Perhaps Annie had already taken the first step on her own. Nina couldn't help but wonder at their motives.

Were they just being selfish? Annie **was** dead after all; she should be allowed her peace.

George and Mitchell wanted her back, wanted things to be just the way they were. Nina wanted Annie back too. She wanted to say "I'm sorry, it's my fault, I brought Kemp to your house. It was my fault."

Nina drew a breath to calm herself. "We just want to know that she's alright. She said that 'they' were angry with her for taking Kemp through a door. There wasn't a form for it. Something like that."

Sarah took a cautious sip of tea. "Getting information about what happens on the other side of the doors is tricky. Once you go through the door, you don't come back."

"Annie did."

"Yeah, that's got me beat. I've no idea how she could have done that on her own." Sarah frowned. "Assuming it was, in fact, her."

That thought hadn't occurred to her. "Well, seeing as the fucker wanted to kill me, I'm rather grateful to whoever it was," Nina declared. Sarah laughed, conceding to that point.

"Who could it have been, if it wasn't actually Annie?" Nina said quietly, all humour gone from her voice.

"Lots of... things," Sarah said reluctantly.

"So how do we find out if it was Annie?" Nina pressed, not wanting to think about what 'things' might mean. "I really do want to check to make sure she's alright." And ideally get her back.

"An air spirit would be able to locate her," Sarah said slowly.

"An air spirit could find her?" Nina repeated, wondering how one of those could be summoned. God. What insanity. Summoning spirits like she was something out of _Supernatural_ or _Buffy_.

Sarah shrugged in reply, and sipped her tea. Nina sipped too, desperate to know the answer, but also knowing that if she alienated Sarah, she'd have an even harder time finding out more information.

After a few minutes Sarah reached over and squeezed Nina's hand.

"Death is meant to be unknown to mortals, Nina. Finding out what happens on the other side... it changes nothing. Your Annie will still be dead and she'll still be in limbo and that won't change until she accepts it."

She was gentle, but firm. "There's nothing you can do to help her. It's something she has to face on her own," she said. "One day you'll have to do it as well, just like the rest of us."

Nina nodded. It made sense. It was horrible, but it made sense. Annie was dead. She'd been dead for as long as Nina had known her. She was just so full of life, being able to touch her, see her, talk with her... it had been so easy to forget that at the end of the day, Annie didn't have a body. Annie's physical body was six feet under, decaying in a box. Nina closed her eyes against the image.

"George and Mitchell are going to be so upset when I tell them this," Nina whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Mitchell is a vampire," Sarah said, getting up to get Nina a tissue. "He's already seen this. He knows."

Nina thought Sarah's voice sounded a bit colder when she spoke about Mitchell being a vampire.

While Nina wiped her eyes, Sarah looked out the window, gazing at the river.

"I drowned when I was eight," she said suddenly. Nina looked up. "It was Llyr that held me down. My telekinesis intrigued her and she wanted me. I died and went through my door. But she pulled me back."

"She pulled you out of limbo?" Nina wondered if a spirit could bring Annie out of her limbo. If a spirit could find her, then surely it could bring her back.

"Yes. Now I'm bound her." Sarah looked back over at Nina. "Being torn out of limbo, out of your next stage of existence, it's excruciating, Nina. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

She went to take their cups back to the sink, but froze. "George said that Annie stayed because of Mitchell," she whispered to herself.

Nina glanced up. "What?"

Sarah spun around. "You boyfriend said that Annie didn't go through her door because Mitchell got stabbed. Is that true?"

"Um, I don't know. I wasn't there," Nina said, startled by Sarah's sudden buzz of energy. "George could tell you more."

Sarah looked at the phone. "Shit, I wonder if Lawrence knows," she said. Nina frowned, not sure where Sarah was heading with this.

"Who's Lawrence?" Nina asked as the buttons on the phone dialled themselves.

Sarah had the phone set on loudspeaker and it began to ring loudly. She drummed her fingers impatiently as it rang.

"Lawrence is a paranormal expert. He works for the London vampires. He sort of oversees things and takes care of little projects. He doesn't have any powers, other than the ability to annoy the shit out of anyone he meets." She nodded in the direction of the papers. "He would be the wanker. He's a right royal asshole."

Nina didn't think that anyone was going to pick up when she heard a click and a very irritated male voice.

"What?" Actually, the man sounded a little out of breath. It was the same voice that had rung Sarah the other day in the shop.

In the background, a female voice moaned. "Who is it?"

"Shut up Halle. Who is this?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Lawrence, it's Sarah."

"Christ, I spoke to you last night. What the hell do you want now?"

Nina admired Sarah's restraint as Sarah kept her voice calm. "Could vampires and ghosts bond? Like humans and spirits can?"

There was a pause. Nina watched the phone, nervous and hopeful at the same time, though she wasn't quite sure what she was hoping for. There was feminine whine of protest as Lawrence apparently got rid of his female companion.

"I guess so. Vampires and ghosts are humans, sort of, and they have a few similar spirits connected to them. It's possible. Ask your little spirit friend."

"Do you think a ghost could come back from limbo if it was bonded to a vampire?" Sarah pressed and Nina saw an excited gleam in her eyes.

Lawrence now sounded doubtful. "Maybe. For the ghost's sake, I hope not."

Sarah leaned back, smiling slightly. "Would we be able to contact the ghost in limbo then?"

"Any idiot can contact a ghost in limbo, you know that." Another pause. "Sarah, what's with all these questions?"

Now looking very excited, Sarah managed to keep her casual tone. "Just something I'm working on."

"Bullshit. What gives? Who's the vampire and who's the ghost?"

Nina shook her head in alarm and quickly mouthed 'don't tell him'.

Sarah nodded. "I don't have names. It's from an email."

"Uh-huh." He didn't sound convinced. "Look, I don't know what you're trying to do, but fuck, don't go pulling a ghost out of fucking limbo. You **know** what happens."

He groaned. "God, I'm trying to handle a vampire that just got yanked out of limbo, he's fucking nuts. Lester is going mental trying to control him."

Sarah snorted. "He's a vampire. They're meant to get pulled out of limbo," she said scathingly. Now that she had her information, she wasn't as polite.

"No, these two stupid bitches resurrected Herrick _after_ he got ripped to bits by a werewolf. How does someone stupid enough to be locked in the same room as a werewolf get to be the head of the Bristol vampires, anyway?"

Herrick? No, he's dead. George killed him.

"Seriously?" Sarah's tone became a little gossipy. "He must be pissed they were all killed."

"I doubt he's even aware of it. The two bitches that resurrected him brought him to London, killed a ton of people, got grabbed by the cleaners and taken to Lester." Lawrence laughed. "And the icing on the cake is that the two chicks that brought him back, one of them is claiming that she helped kill those poor fucks on the train last month. Her and some guy named John Mitchell."

Nina went very still. Oh no. No, no, no, no, **no**.

"So now Lester's team is trying to figure that one out. Not to mention the shit that's happening with CenSSA. It's one fucking thing after another."

"He's got his hands full then," Sarah replied, no sympathy in her voice.

"Well, the dicks at CenSSA have it coming."

"Well, keep me posted on that one," Sarah said, bored with the topic.

"I might have to get you to come down here. This Herrick guy is pretty strong, I might need to get a spirit to hold him."

Sarah crinkled her nose. "Okay. Call me if you need me," she said grudgingly. "Of course, it'll be my usual fee."

"Yeah, yeah. And Sarah?" The abrupt voice softened. "Seriously, don't go fucking with a ghost in limbo, even if it is bonded with a vampire. You know better than that."

Click.

Sarah waved her hand and the phone set itself back in place. She sat across from Nina, looking none too pleased with the news she'd received.

"When you come over tomorrow," Sarah said, thinking it over, "we'll find out if we can speak to Annie and see how she is." She looked up. "Will that be okay?"

"Fine," Nina whispered, shocked at what she'd heard.

"Cool," Sarah said. "I'll see you at one then?"

"See you then," Nina squeaked and she fled down the stairs.

***

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Chapter Five: Mitchell II will be posted soon.


	5. Chapter 5: Mitchell II

**Otherworlds**: Chapter Five 

**Pairing(s): **George/ Nina, possible Mitchell/ Annie later.  
**Rating:** M for swearing and violence. If you can watch the show, you can read this.  
**Disclaimer: **All I own is the story. The characters belong to BBC Three and Toby Whithouse.  
**Summary: Mitchell, George and Nina know that getting Annie won't be easy, but when confronted by their own feelings, their own secrets and the strange wonders of the world, they aren't so sure if Annie should come back. **  
**Author's notes: **This is still a work in progress. More chapters to come.

Chapter Five: Mitchell II.

As Mitchell walked in, brushing water off himself, he saw Nina sitting at the table, hunched over a newspaper. She looked angry and upset. He had been about to shut himself in his room for the rest of the night, but he remembered his earlier resolution of trying to put her at ease. Perhaps she'd had a fight with George? Reluctantly, he stopped, waiting to see if she'd give him an explanation.

When Nina spoke, her voice was tight with barely controlled anger.

"Apparently Herrick is back," she said and looked up, holding Mitchell's gaze. "Did you know anything about that?"

So it had worked. Daisy and Cara had succeeded. Mitchell kept his face blank and didn't reply.

Nina nodded, clearly disgusted, as the condemning silence stretched on. He eventually broke it. "How did you find out?"

Nina scowled at him. "I saw Sarah today. She does work for the London vampires. Apparently two female vampires turned up with Herrick. Seems Herrick is a bit mental."

That wasn't much of a surprise. He'd told Daisy to expect that and manage it as best she could until he met up with her. Of course, since George had hidden them, he hadn't gone to the designated spot. For some stupid reason, she'd obviously thought that going to London would be a good idea. The London vampires. Fuck, fuck, **fuck.**

"One of them said they had a hand in the train killings," Nina added icily and threw the newspaper at him.

He blinked, drawing back slightly as it glanced off his face. He looked down at the pages. There was a memorial article for the 'Box Tunnel Twenty'. He stared down at the faces, remembering their screams of terror, and his mouth watered as he remembered how their fear had sharpened the taste of their blood.

"Did you even know their names?" she demanded furiously. "Did you even bother to find out afterwards?"

For some perverse reason, Mitchell decided to answer her.

"No. I didn't."

Nina stared at him with disbelieving eyes and Mitchell felt sorry for her. She had no idea what vampires were really like. Granted with the realisation that he'd committed these murders and the butchery he'd committed at the facility had given her a frightening insight, but that was different. That was out of anger. A vampire was much stealthier, more cunning, and far crueller, when it was circling its prey. Few predators made their prey trust them before going in for the kill.

"I don't care if she is connected to you somehow," she snarled, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. "Annie deserves better than you."

Mitchell didn't know what she was talking about, but he agreed wholeheartedly with the latter part of her statement.

Nina sniffled, swiping furiously at her eyes. He felt the fire in his chest begin to rage and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

After a few minutes, Nina had calmed herself. She drew a breath and looked up at him.

"I'm not going to tell George," she said firmly. "But I think you should. After all he's done for you, I think you at least owe him the truth."

Nina went upstairs. He turned around and walked outside again. He could smell Lucy's dried blood in the pavement cracks.

George was just getting out of the car. Mitchell was about to bolt when George looked up and saw him.

"Where you off to Mitchell?" he said cheerily. He'd been shopping, bags of groceries were in the passenger seat. "I thought I might make lasagne for dinner."

"Sounds good," Mitchell said, not terribly interested in food at the moment. "Nina saw Sarah today."

"Oh good, maybe she mentioned what sort of roast we're having." George pulled out a bottle of wine. "Red wine goes well with a roast doesn't it?"

Mitchell forced a smile. "Sure. Why not?" He reached for a bag. "Here. I'll get that."

George relinquished a few bags to Mitchell and headed towards the kitchen, Mitchell trailing behind him miserably.

Inside, George unpacked groceries and began to organise the ingredients for the lasagne. Mitchell watched him set water on the stove to boil and groaned inwardly when George ordered him to make sure it didn't spill over when it boiled. If he stayed now, he'd be made to chop vegetables or stir sauce or something and then be expected to sit and eat it.

"Right, when it boils, put the pasta in. Make sure it doesn't go soggy," George instructed sternly. "I'm going up to find Nina. Now keep an eye on it!"

Mitchell obeyed, glaring at the pot of water. Weren't you meant to put salt in boiling water when making pasta? Did George expect him to do that? Was he meant to? He hadn't seen George put any salt in, but his back had been turned for a minute while he'd put the milk away. He scanned the bench top. When cooking, George always lined up the ingredients in the order they were to be used. The salt was beside the flour. Did that mean he'd already used it?

Mitchell was perfectly aware that he was using this stupid pasta literary to keep his mind off what he should say to George. It was working.

He decided that if there was salt in the water, a tiny bit more would hurt. He put the lasagne noodle sheets in, taking care not to break them. When was the last time he'd cooked? Probably months ago. He was more of a take-out food guy, pizza being the preference. Initially, George had tried to have a cooking roster, but after several take-away meals on Mitchell's 'cooking nights', he gave up and cooked for both of them.

Probably for the best. Despite enjoying many cooking shows over the decades, particularly Nigella Lawson, Mitchell wasn't a great cook. Whenever this was pointed out to him, he got defensive, insisting that he could indeed cook, he was just too lazy to do so.

George came back into the kitchen. "Mitchell!"

He looked up. Had Nina said something after all?

George made a beeline for the pot on the stove. "I told you to make sure the pasta didn't go soggy!"

Mitchell glanced down at the pot. "Looks fine to me."

George sighed and shook his head, pushing Mitchell out of the way.

Mitchell hung around while George prepared the lasagne. While George rattled on about his day, Mitchell tried to work up the nerve to come clean about his actions.

A part of him wanted to tell George everything. In the few years they'd been friends, George had overlooked Mitchell's various fuckups because he'd thought that Mitchell had been trying to control himself. **Had** being the operative word.

_Why haven't you asked me?_

_Asked you what?_

_About what happened before I left the house. About what I did in the facility._

_I don't want to know. Um, I don't want to look at you and think... I can't be your confessor Mitchell, I can't, not now. I need you too much._

George might be able to overlook the people Mitchell had killed at the facility, justifying it somehow, maybe thinking of them as the bad guys. But he would not be able to overlook the people who had died on the train. He would not overlook the people that would be killed when Herrick broke free.

"Nina says that Sarah is going to try and contact a water spirit tomorrow. She might be able to help us get Annie back," George said, a big smile on his face. That got Mitchell's attention.

"Do you think it will work?"

George considered. "I hope so." Then he frowned. "Sarah said that Annie is probably in limbo and needs to let go so she can move on."

Mitchell stared at the countertop. He didn't want to talk about this. If Annie was in limbo, then she was gone. Nothing could bring her back.

Mitchell suddenly wondered what it was about George and Annie that made him want to keep them around so badly. He wanted George's approval and respect. He wanted Annie's love and infectious happiness. In all his long years, he'd seldom had friends that he could tolerate for long. He could probably count them on one hand.

"Do you think Annie should move on?"

No. I want her to stay with me, Mitchell thought miserably, but he didn't say anything. He shrugged.

George glanced at him. "I guess it's important for us to remember that she's dead. She's meant to... move on."

"I'm dead."

"You're a vampire."

Mitchell fiddled with a knife. "Maybe not everyone is meant to move on." He glanced at his wrist, studying the pale blue vein just below the skin. God, he was so hungry. Probably a good thing he was living with two werewolves. The scent of their blood wasn't particularly appetising. After such a blood filled frenzy, it was agonising not being able to feed.

George reached over and took the knife off him, giving him a look that was both wary and disapproving.

Maybe I can get away without having to tell George what I did. I'll just say I want to leave. He'll be a bit hurt, but he won't protest. Then I can sort Herrick and the London crew out. Won't upset George that way.

"Mitchell?"

His head snapped up. "What?"

"I said, did you want to come tomorrow?"

He didn't particularly want to go. When he'd set foot in that stupid magic shop, he'd known that Sarah had a touch of the supernatural about her. He hadn't cared to figure out what, just tried to see what books might be useful. But it was mostly general new age crap.

Then George had bounded in last night, declaring that Sarah was telekinetic and spoke with spirits, Mitchell had felt a flicker of alarm. Spirit Conduits had once been widely prized by vampire groups; they were incredibly useful allies. Foes could be stealthily dealt with, suitable locations for feeding revealed. But as times changed, they weren't used as much, though the more traditionalist vampires still kept them on the books.

Spirits. He'd spent enough time with the Old Ones to learn something about how the spirit world worked. Dangerous, helpful, caring, mischievous, evil, good; it was near impossible to control them. But he'd told Cara and Daisy how to attract them.

"I guess so," he said reluctantly. "But I'm not hoping for much."

"Well, it's better for you to get out and stop moping around here," George said briskly, putting the lasagne in the oven. He had to kick the oven door a few times to make it close. Having conquered the oven door, he immediately began cleaning up the small mess he'd created.

Mitchell felt a little irritated. Despite knowing that it was difficult, George clearly had no idea just **how** hard it was for him to do this. George might only be a predator once a month, but he was one all the time. Not drinking, not killing...

Nina came into the kitchen, rubbing her hair dry with a towel. Mitchell pulled away from the bench, uneasy, but she didn't look at him. She was smiling up at George, who smiled back, drawing her close to kiss her. Mitchell felt a fierce pang of jealousy.

_Was there anything you said to me, anything you did, that wasn't a lie?_

_I had to win your confidence._

_We had sex._

_I had to win your confidence._

How ironic that the woman he'd thought he could be with had been the one that tipped him, no, threw him, over the edge of sanity. His toes were constantly hanging over, true, but her insidiousness had sent him spiralling down into a blood filled hell. He reached for an empty coffee mug without even realising it, drawing comfort from the feel of the ceramic in his hands.

It suddenly hit Mitchell that George actually seemed happy tonight. Was it because of this lunch tomorrow? He paid closer attention to what George was saying to Nina. He was babbling on about Sarah. Like she was a friend already.

For one treacherous second, he thought that George might be latching on to Sarah as a sort of replacement for Annie.

He knew better though, having long figured this out when he'd first met George. George was more at ease with other supernatural creatures than he was with humans because they already **knew**. He didn't have to hide with them. It was why he and Mitchell had bonded in the first place.

He set the cup down. "I'm going out."

"But... don't you want any dinner?" George said, a little hurt.

He paused by the door, glancing over his shoulder. "Uh... leave some in the fridge for me. I'll heat it up when I get back."

George nodded grudgingly, turning away. Nina rubbed his arm, comforting him over the latest rebuff. Mitchell felt the smallest pang of regret, but it passed quickly. He strode out into the night.

The forest was dark, the tall trees nearly blotting out the pale moonlight, only a few scarce patches managed to break through. Not that it mattered; he could see just fine. How he had missed the heightened vision that came with blood drinking! The effects still lingered in Mitchell's system, despite having not fed in over three weeks.

He could hear the scurrying of smaller animals, hedgehogs, moles, weasels, squirrels, mice. A rabbit broke the stillness of the forest with a frightened shriek. Mitchell paused, listening. He could hear a fox wrestling with its new prize. Another benefit he missed when he didn't drink.

Face it. You miss it all. Having human level senses... where's the fun? The increased strength, the incredible sense of smell... all it takes is a single sip and you're stronger than any human.

He continued walking, weaving through the trees. He wouldn't get lost. He could smell the trail. The sodden leaves squished underneath his boots and a sudden gust of wind shook leaves down on him. Nearly two hours later, he stopped and sat down, ignoring the wet ground.

This was where he had buried Lucy, just three days ago. Despite the six feet of soil that separated them, Mitchell could smell Lucy's rotting body.

He closed his eyes, trying not to remember how she'd felt in his arms. Didn't work. Everything about her had been hot. Her skin, her tongue, the inside of her mouth, he drowned in her heat.

It had been so hard not to bite her, drink from her. Blood was entwined with lust for a vampire, but he'd fought it back. Thought that with her at his side, he would always be able to control the ever present hunger.

_Was there anything you said to me, anything you did, that wasn't a lie?_

_I had to win your confidence._

_We had sex._

_I had to win your confidence._

Whenever he replayed this conversation in his head, Mitchell always marvelled over his hypocrisy. He'd had audacity to lecture Lucy over using him – after how many decades of using people to feed from? Charming women, smiling while they batted their lashes coquettishly at him, crooning compliments into their ears, all just so he could sink his fangs into their necks and drink.

Despite his fury at her betrayal, he couldn't help but grieve for what might have been.

_I might have plans in the future._

_Do these future plans include Lucy?_

_I really hope so. Yeah..._

Mitchell would have preferred some happier memory, as he did for all the people he'd cared about at one point or another, but the stunning realisation that an ordinary human had sought him out, befriended him, slept with him, was capable of destroying his friends... that was what he would forever associate with her.

Unlike his grief for Annie, he could not bring himself to cry for Lucy. Though he had cared for her, the sadness he felt over her death was brief. She had played a part in the death of many of his friends - he used _that_ word reluctantly – because she saw them as killers. Yet he had seen them as people trying to change for the better.

Mitchell did not blame Lucy for what he'd done on the train. **He** had made that choice. Retaliation, eye for an eye, all that crap, he'd wanted innocent people to suffer just as his friends had. A train full of people suited that chilling need just nicely.

In typical vampire fashion, he didn't feel overly sorry for killing them. He knew he should regret it, it was what a **real** human would have felt, but it was something a vampire could never do. Even now, thinking of what had happened on the train made his mouth water. His eyes went black.

Mitchell had never known that he was capable of such wrath. Herrick would have been ever so proud.

Herrick. Fuck. Going to London was not an idea he relished.

What the **hell** had Daisy been thinking, taking him to fucking London? Now he would have to deal with Lester. Even Herrick was cautious around Lester. Fuck. Tomorrow or the next day, he would have to leave.

If he left in the middle of the night, then he wouldn't have to say goodbye to George. Wouldn't have to see George's pain as he abandoned him. Wouldn't have to explain why he had to leave, what he'd done. Yes, leaving during the night would be best. Easiest.

He winced, his fingers digging into the dirt as he tried to ride out a wave of blistering pain. He didn't understand where this pain was coming from. Granted, he'd been staked, but that had been months ago and he'd felt fine afterwards. This was something that had appeared when Annie vanished. She was connected to it somehow, though he had no idea why. What the hell had the reverend done to her, to him?

Maybe it was just stress. Mitchell snickered.

His thoughts drifted back to London. The vampires there did not appreciate chaos; they were very strict about avoiding attention. If Herrick had been serious about his Final Solution idea, he would have had a tough time convincing the London vampires.

Mitchell didn't know too much about Lester, the head vampire of London, other than he'd reigned over London for over sixty years. He had fearsome reputation, but was well respected. He worked well with the other vampire leaders and kept vampire trouble in the United Kingdom to a minimum. They'd met briefly, and Mitchell had been rather in awe of Lester's 'don't fuck with me' presence.

He had a grim suspicion that if he went to London, he wouldn't return. If that was the case, then he really ought to bite the bullet and say goodbye to George.

The pain in his chest eased slightly and he relaxed just a little.

Would Lester have me killed for murdering all those people in the train? And the chief constable? Oh, and the people at the facility. Maybe it would just be easier if I gave up on this ridiculous idea of being 'clean'.

It wasn't the first time he'd had that thought. His reasons for stopping... there were fewer and fewer of them now. Sure, he could do it to please George, but what would he do when George left?

_I think it's under control, but it's just sleeping, this rage, this, this hunger, it's in my bones and I want to stop. I've gone clean before, it's possible, if the conditions are right and everything is in the right place. I can do it, I know I can!_

_What conditions?_

What a joke. Conditions? There weren't conditions, it was just self control and he lacked it in fucking spades. If he'd really, really, **really** wanted to stop, then he could have. But that was the whole thing, wasn't it? Deep, deep down, there was a part of him that didn't want to stop. A part of him that craved blood beyond all reason.

The part of him that had brought him back from the dead, robbed him of his reflection, made religious objects painful to look at, increased his strength and senses, made it near impossible to kill him, made his eyes go black with hunger. The part of him that was a vampire.

_Someone to help me. Someone to change my life for... That's what I've been missing all this time someone to ... someone like you. I can do this, one more chance, that's all I need, I want this so much, but I can't do it alone. Please. Please, I'm begging you. Save me._

Musing over his desperate words, Mitchell realised he had been very wrong.

**He** didn't need saving. It was everyone around him that needed saving, in case he lost control. And he would. He could hope for the best, try his hardest, but he would end up killing someone again.

Look at Carl. He'd gone how long and when he lost control, he'd killed the person he loved the most, Mitchell thought sadly.

He remembered pleading with Josie to let him change her while she was still young, horrified at the prospect of living without her. But she'd firmly said no.

One night he'd come dangerously close to biting her, turning her against her will. The only thing that had kept his fangs in place was the fact that she would hate him for it. Josie loved being human.

The next day, he had confessed what he had almost done to her. They'd shared a final kiss, tears streaming down their faces, and he'd left, knowing that if he stayed, Josie would die.

Ivan had loved Daisy. Wanting to be with her, he had changed her. They'd always been happy together.

_You should have said it was about love. Go in there. We all lead long, appalling lives but I have my Daisy. Everyone deserves a Daisy._

Of course, neither of them tried to abstain from drinking blood.

In Mitchell's experience, a long term relationship for a vampire only worked with another vampire. It had worked for him until they'd grown tired of each other and parted ways. With humans, relationships were brief, dangerous and full of secrets.

Mitchell didn't claim to be an expert on love, but he was pretty certain that keeping big secrets – such as hiding the fact that you had a passion for slaughtering people – wasn't the way to build the foundations of a lasting relationship.

Enough of this self pitying bullshit. I have lasagne to eat.

He hadn't gone five steps when he realised that he'd buried Lucy in unconsecrated earth. Even if her belief in science troubled her, Lucy Jaggat still believed in God. If she'd had a proper funeral, there would have been a priest, a church, her family and friends crying for her. There would be prayers said for her. Instead there was just a vampire.

Despite her betrayal, despite the pain she'd caused him, for the first time in decades, Mitchell felt he ought to say something to mark the death of a human. He struggled to remember the prayers his mother had taught him as a child. After a few minutes he recalled one.

"Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen."

Saying the holy words made him wince in pain, but he said them anyway.

***

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Chapter Six: George II will be posted soon.


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